Jai Arjun Singh
Some lightweight reading for the long dry season.
THE KING OF PAGE-TURNERS
Stephen King is one of the most prolific and best-selling writers in the world, and those two words aren’t usually synonymous with high quality — but in his best work King has plumbed the depths of the human soul in a way that’s unmatched by most other popular writers.
His latest novel, Lisey’s Story, is a revisitation of a motif that has run through his work: the dark world of the imagination that a writer lives in, and the effect this interior world can have on him and his family. Lisey is a famous author’s widow, who wants to lock herself away with her memories after his death, but finds their shared past catching up with her. The result is a fine psychological horror story.
BELLY LAUGHS
“He is simply unique in the same way that Picasso or Stravinsky are, and I believe his outrageous unsentimental disregard for order will be equally funny a thousand years from now,” said Woody Allen of Groucho Marx.
The middle child among a group of talented brothers who infiltrated the cinema with their subversive brand of madness, Julius Henry “Groucho” was a natural comic genius. The Marx Brothers’ films invariably centred around his lunatic persona, complete with bizarre painted moustache, cigar firmly in mouth and a trademark machine-gun delivery of non-sequiturs.
Lines like “Why, my ancestors would rise out of their graves and I’d only have to bury them again” were made hysterically funny by his deadpan delivery and incongruously pensive expression. Stefan Kanfer’s The Essential Groucho is a compilation of highlights from movie scripts, passages from Groucho’s books, ad-libs and quips from his long-running game show You Bet Your Life, and letters including his classic correspondence with T S Eliot.
CRICKET
For cricket lovers disillusioned by India’s early World Cup exit, the increasing mediocrity of the one-day game, and poor administration, Men in White, a collection of Mukul Kesavan’s essays, is a reminder of what the game can be at its best. Like all impassioned cricket lovers, Kesavan is very opinionated, and he holds forth here on a variety of topics — such as the culture of cricket in Chennai, the need to re-think the special rules created for one-dayers, and the implications of a racist remark by commentator Dean Jones.
Other highlights include his memories of listening to radio commentary as a child and playing the “Lutyens Variant” of cricket in a neighbourhood park. In a reading season that has seen a glut of soul-deadening, stats-heavy “cricket books” cynically cashing in on the WC craze, this one comes as a breath of fresh air.
MYSTERY
The sunny, non-threatening worlds created by Scottish writer Alexander McCall Smith are best appreciated during a lazy summer vacation. A law professor who turns out at least a couple of books each year, Smith has created a couple of popular series featuring such characters as Precious Ramotswe, the “Miss Marple of Botswana”, proprietor of the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency.
In Blue Shoes and Happiness, Precious investigates a number of troublesome matters, including theft and blackmail at a catering college and sinister goings-on at a health clinic.
Meanwhile, she has philosophical questions to address too: is it right to find happiness in small things, such as a new pair of blue shoes? This is cosy, feel-good armchair (or deckchair) reading; just a look at the bright cover, with its colourful relief-print illustration, will set the mood.
NON-FICTION
Books on India and “Indianness” have been quite the rage in recent months, with notable entries by foreign correspondents Edward Luce (In Spite of the Gods) and Christopher Kremer (Inhaling the Mahatma), as well as Ramachandra Guha’s India After Gandhi and Sudhir Kakar’s The Indians: Portrait of a People.
New on the shelves is Mark Tully’s India’s Unending Journey, in which the author shares the formative experiences of his British Raj upbringing, his public school years and early vocation as a priest, his distinguished broadcasting career and his fascination for India’s tradition, as well as its modern way of doing things.
Through interviews and anecdotes, he embarks on a journey that investigates the many faces of India, from the untouchables of Uttar Pradesh to the skyscrapers of Gurgaon. Pleasant and undemanding, despite its vast scope, and don’t miss the chapter on Khajuraho, with the Christian Tully charily coming to terms with India’s long tradition of sex in religion!
MYTHOLOGY
Speaking of sex in religion... You might not associate the Puranas with summer reading, but Ramesh Menon’s beautifully written translations — in a series of books published over the last two years — have brought alive the stories we read in Amar Chitra Katha comics as children.
Even the deliberately archaic language isn’t a serious barrier to enjoying these stories; start with Menon’s Siva Purana and Krishna Purana before moving on to the more heavyweight translations of the Mahabharata and the Srimad Bhagvata. Be warned, though, that these are uncensored translations with lots of explicit violence and divine copulations, not the sterile, Colgate-toothpaste versions of gods that you see in TV serials.
SPECIAL MENTION
The collected edition of writer/artist Craig Thompson’s elegiac “illustrated novel” Blankets is now available in India, and it’s well worth investing your money and time into, even if you’re not a graphic-novel convert. Thompson said in an interview that the book came out of his need “to describe how it feels to sleep next to someone for the first time”.
This memoir moves between two phases of its narrator’s life: his childhood days, sharing (and squabbling over) a single bed with his kid brother; and his years as a lonely, confused adolescent, a measure of comfort coming in the form of an unusual relationship with a girl named Raina. Through all this, he struggles with questions about religion, art, the importance of family and the difficulty of achieving genuine closeness with another person.
Don’t be daunted by the size (580 pages) of this book — it won’t take you more than a couple of reading sessions to get through; after which we recommend you read it again, this time paying closer attention to the image details.
Also look out for: Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns, a follow-up to the extremely popular The Kite Runner; and After Dark, a new novella by the celebrated Japanese author Haruki Murakami.
Courtesy: Business Standard
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Found In Translation
By IE
The spate of English translations of Bengali novels have found maximum takers among Bengalis themselves, busy discovering the literary gems of their mother tongue
"Trouble in Graveyard, Danger in Darjeeling and The Buccaneer of Bombay, these are my favourite Feluda stories," says 24-year-old Shalini Choudhury, a research fellow with Indian Statistical Institute. Most Bengalis who have grown up on the Ray family's seminal children's magazine, Sandesh, will find this bit of information preposterous. After all, Satyajit Ray never wrote them in English. "Buccaneer of Bombay? You mean Bombaiyer Bombete? I have grown up reading Feluda stories in Bengali and I can't imagine reading them in any other language," says Meghraj Moitra, 28, an employee of ABN Amro Bank.
While many other Bengalis might identify with Moitra's dismay, yet the truth remains that a generation of Bengalis have started identifying these perennial Bengali classics in their Anglicised avatars. "I studied in an English medium school. My second language was Hindi, which means I have never studied the Bengali language. Which is why I found the idea of even reading Bengali newspapers scary. My parents always used to talk about Feluda and other Bengali classics, which made me want to read them. So one fine day I picked up a translation of Feluda and have been hooked ever since," says Chowdhury. Sreyasi Ray, HR manager, Veloz Software, echoes the sentiment. " I read English translations of Bengali classics simply because it's the language I am comfortable in. as long as the essence of the novel is captured I don't care what language it is in," says Ray.
"Most translations of Bengali classics like Ray's Feluda series and Sunil Gangopadhyay are bought by young Bengali readers. Even though there is a growing number of non-Bengali readers too, almost 80 percent of the readers of the translations are Bengalis. This has always been the case. It's probably because there are many young readers who can't read or write in Bengali," says Pradeep Choudhury, manager in charge, Seagull Bookstore. Raju Burman, partner of Rupa & Co., which has published many Tagore translations, corroborates the observation . "There is a huge market for translations in Bengali classics in India and abroad. A lot of non- Bengalis and foreigners buy these books to initiate themselves to Bengali literature. But the bulk of our customers comprise Bengalis who don't have the means to read the original books. They can be NRIs or Kolkatans," says Burman.
Popular Bengali contemporary classics like Ray's Feluda series sell more in Kolkata than anywhere else. "As much as 40 per cent of the sales of Feluda books are made in Kolkata itself," says a senior official of Penguin India, which has published the translations of most Feluda novels.
For many Non Resident Bengalis these translations are, ironically, their only window to the Bengali milieu. "In translation such as Shankar's Chowringhee, Sunil Gangopadhyay's Those Days and of course the Feluda stories, I find the warmth of Bengali culture. I have never lived in Bengal and my perception of it is basically based on the accounts of my parents. So obviously, it's nostalgia-hued. And these translations in many ways have strengthened the perception," says 24-year-old Arunlekha Sengupta, an employee of Google Hyderabad, who is planning to buy many more such translations during her yearly trip to the city.
Reputed Bengali author Sankar, whose Chowringhee was recently translated by Penguin, acknowledges Sengupta's feelings. "My book is a celebration of the middle-class Bengali heartbeat as well as the cosmopolitan wave that washed the City of Joy with the fading of colonial rule. So naturally it can be seen as a way to cling on to the Bengali milieu which eludes most non resident Bengalis," says Sankar. He sees the translation of his works, as a way of reaching out to those who love and understand literature. " Vikram Seth had earlier read the Hindi translation of Chowringhee. So impressed was Seth that he suggested to the publisher that the book be translated into English so that readers across the world can read it. So the language in which my book is read doesn't matter. If it's appreciated for its qualities I'm more than happy," he sums up.
The spate of English translations of Bengali novels have found maximum takers among Bengalis themselves, busy discovering the literary gems of their mother tongue
"Trouble in Graveyard, Danger in Darjeeling and The Buccaneer of Bombay, these are my favourite Feluda stories," says 24-year-old Shalini Choudhury, a research fellow with Indian Statistical Institute. Most Bengalis who have grown up on the Ray family's seminal children's magazine, Sandesh, will find this bit of information preposterous. After all, Satyajit Ray never wrote them in English. "Buccaneer of Bombay? You mean Bombaiyer Bombete? I have grown up reading Feluda stories in Bengali and I can't imagine reading them in any other language," says Meghraj Moitra, 28, an employee of ABN Amro Bank.
While many other Bengalis might identify with Moitra's dismay, yet the truth remains that a generation of Bengalis have started identifying these perennial Bengali classics in their Anglicised avatars. "I studied in an English medium school. My second language was Hindi, which means I have never studied the Bengali language. Which is why I found the idea of even reading Bengali newspapers scary. My parents always used to talk about Feluda and other Bengali classics, which made me want to read them. So one fine day I picked up a translation of Feluda and have been hooked ever since," says Chowdhury. Sreyasi Ray, HR manager, Veloz Software, echoes the sentiment. " I read English translations of Bengali classics simply because it's the language I am comfortable in. as long as the essence of the novel is captured I don't care what language it is in," says Ray.
"Most translations of Bengali classics like Ray's Feluda series and Sunil Gangopadhyay are bought by young Bengali readers. Even though there is a growing number of non-Bengali readers too, almost 80 percent of the readers of the translations are Bengalis. This has always been the case. It's probably because there are many young readers who can't read or write in Bengali," says Pradeep Choudhury, manager in charge, Seagull Bookstore. Raju Burman, partner of Rupa & Co., which has published many Tagore translations, corroborates the observation . "There is a huge market for translations in Bengali classics in India and abroad. A lot of non- Bengalis and foreigners buy these books to initiate themselves to Bengali literature. But the bulk of our customers comprise Bengalis who don't have the means to read the original books. They can be NRIs or Kolkatans," says Burman.
Popular Bengali contemporary classics like Ray's Feluda series sell more in Kolkata than anywhere else. "As much as 40 per cent of the sales of Feluda books are made in Kolkata itself," says a senior official of Penguin India, which has published the translations of most Feluda novels.
For many Non Resident Bengalis these translations are, ironically, their only window to the Bengali milieu. "In translation such as Shankar's Chowringhee, Sunil Gangopadhyay's Those Days and of course the Feluda stories, I find the warmth of Bengali culture. I have never lived in Bengal and my perception of it is basically based on the accounts of my parents. So obviously, it's nostalgia-hued. And these translations in many ways have strengthened the perception," says 24-year-old Arunlekha Sengupta, an employee of Google Hyderabad, who is planning to buy many more such translations during her yearly trip to the city.
Reputed Bengali author Sankar, whose Chowringhee was recently translated by Penguin, acknowledges Sengupta's feelings. "My book is a celebration of the middle-class Bengali heartbeat as well as the cosmopolitan wave that washed the City of Joy with the fading of colonial rule. So naturally it can be seen as a way to cling on to the Bengali milieu which eludes most non resident Bengalis," says Sankar. He sees the translation of his works, as a way of reaching out to those who love and understand literature. " Vikram Seth had earlier read the Hindi translation of Chowringhee. So impressed was Seth that he suggested to the publisher that the book be translated into English so that readers across the world can read it. So the language in which my book is read doesn't matter. If it's appreciated for its qualities I'm more than happy," he sums up.
The lost world of libraries
Gargi Gupta & Arati Menon Carroll
The reading pleasure associated with the world of books no longer exists
“Lebrerii?” The cycle-rickshawwallah in front of the Sri Digamber Jain Lal Mandir had no idea there was a library in the vicinity, let alone three located within a radius of barely a kilometre from where he stood.
There was the Marwari Library some way down Chandni Chowk, the Hardayal Municipal Public Library down the lane that runs off Mati Das Chowk, and Delhi Public Library opposite the Old Delhi Railway Station. But the poor, illiterate rickshawwallah could hardly be blamed — obviously, few people ever asked to be taken to these places.
And yet, these are among three of the city’s oldest public libraries. The oldest, Hardayal Municipal Public Library, traces its history back to 1862, to the Institute Library, a reading club of books memsahibs read on the voyage to India.
The Marwari Library, founded in 1915 by Kedarnath Goenka, a freedom fighter, where everyone from Mahatma Gandhi to Madan Mohan Malviya came; and Delhi Public Library, inaugurated by Jawaharlal Nehru in 1951.
But, however distinguished the provenance of these three, as also that of the Dayal Singh Public Library in Delhi and other public libraries elsewhere in the country, they are all rather sad places today. Only PhD students come here now to trawl the dusty shelves of uncared for books, rummage through the crumbling cards and brave the apathetic sloth of the staff for the early and rare editions of novels and journals.
There’s another tribe of visitors — students and those studying for competitive exams, who are more interested in the newer stocks, the textbooks, journals, and (largly pedestrian) reference books.
As semi-government bodies, Delhi Public Library and Hardayal Municipal Public Library are no longer single libraries but a network of reading rooms, zonal and regional libraries spread out all over the city. But the result of this outreach has been that most of the money they get go into paying salaries with very little left for adding quality books to the collection or preserving what’s already there.
A library, everyone will agree, says a lot about a city, a country, its people. And Delhi doesn’t do badly on this score. As the capital city, it has a number of good libraries that showcase the range and depth of scholarship in the country, and are a rich source of material for researchers.
There are the eclectic collections at university libraries and clubs like the India International Centre and Delhi Gymkhana, more specialised ones at the Delhi School of Economics, Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, National School of Drama and archival treasures at the Nehru Memorial Library and National Archives. But these, with a few exceptions, are out of bounds to the general public.
So where does someone in Mumbai who wants a book for nothing more than the pleasure of a good read go?
David Sassoon Library
152, Mahatma Gandhi Marg, Fort
This institution, in the Kala Ghoda precinct, at 161 years old, is the oldest library in the city. Having recently been restored, the yellow malad stone facade, cobbled garden (a favourite for cultural soirees) and a grand teak staircase stand proud.
The terrace adjoining the reading room on the second floor with its chaise longues and reclining chairs is a favourite among bookworms and nappers alike. Their collection is about 40,000 books strong and with a rather nominal lifetime membership fees of Rs 5,000, the library still relies on the largesse of its patrons.
Asiatic Society
Town Hall, Fort
Born as the Literary Society of Bombay, it met for the first time in 1804. Tucked into the fading grandeur of the Asiatic Society of Mumbai is a cache of antique volumes including a first edition copy of Dante’s Inferno. The Society’s holdings include over 3,000 manuscripts in Sanskrit, Arabic, Persian, Urdu and Prakrit from all over India and Nepal. There is also a numismatic collection but you need permission to view this. Lifetime membership will cost you Rs 10,000.
American Center
4 New Marine Lines
This one is primarily a research and reference library that focuses on promoting American culture and politics. The 13,000 volumes, therefore, consist mainly of books, government publications and think tank reports that aid that understanding. It does also, though, have 135 magazines that otherwise may be hard (or expensive) to access. Members are charged Rs 400 for a year’s access.
Shemaroo
3 Om Chambers, August Kranti Marg, Kemps Corner
It all began in 1962, when Shemaroo pioneered Bombay’s first circulating book library. It still has over 13,000 members. Their packed children and teenage library sections offer hope about the continuing relevance of literature. A lifetime membership costs Rs 800 and you’re charged 10 per cent of each book’s price as rental fee.
British Council library
Mittal Tower “A” Wing, 1st floor, Nariman Point
Always enormously popular with students who appreciate the modern environment and efficient services, British Council libraries are modelled on the pattern of British public libraries. The range of reading material is probably the most diverse, both recreational and professional, in addition to music CDs and DVDs. They charge an annual fee of Rs 1,400.
Courtesy: Business Standard
The reading pleasure associated with the world of books no longer exists
“Lebrerii?” The cycle-rickshawwallah in front of the Sri Digamber Jain Lal Mandir had no idea there was a library in the vicinity, let alone three located within a radius of barely a kilometre from where he stood.
There was the Marwari Library some way down Chandni Chowk, the Hardayal Municipal Public Library down the lane that runs off Mati Das Chowk, and Delhi Public Library opposite the Old Delhi Railway Station. But the poor, illiterate rickshawwallah could hardly be blamed — obviously, few people ever asked to be taken to these places.
And yet, these are among three of the city’s oldest public libraries. The oldest, Hardayal Municipal Public Library, traces its history back to 1862, to the Institute Library, a reading club of books memsahibs read on the voyage to India.
The Marwari Library, founded in 1915 by Kedarnath Goenka, a freedom fighter, where everyone from Mahatma Gandhi to Madan Mohan Malviya came; and Delhi Public Library, inaugurated by Jawaharlal Nehru in 1951.
But, however distinguished the provenance of these three, as also that of the Dayal Singh Public Library in Delhi and other public libraries elsewhere in the country, they are all rather sad places today. Only PhD students come here now to trawl the dusty shelves of uncared for books, rummage through the crumbling cards and brave the apathetic sloth of the staff for the early and rare editions of novels and journals.
There’s another tribe of visitors — students and those studying for competitive exams, who are more interested in the newer stocks, the textbooks, journals, and (largly pedestrian) reference books.
As semi-government bodies, Delhi Public Library and Hardayal Municipal Public Library are no longer single libraries but a network of reading rooms, zonal and regional libraries spread out all over the city. But the result of this outreach has been that most of the money they get go into paying salaries with very little left for adding quality books to the collection or preserving what’s already there.
A library, everyone will agree, says a lot about a city, a country, its people. And Delhi doesn’t do badly on this score. As the capital city, it has a number of good libraries that showcase the range and depth of scholarship in the country, and are a rich source of material for researchers.
There are the eclectic collections at university libraries and clubs like the India International Centre and Delhi Gymkhana, more specialised ones at the Delhi School of Economics, Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, National School of Drama and archival treasures at the Nehru Memorial Library and National Archives. But these, with a few exceptions, are out of bounds to the general public.
So where does someone in Mumbai who wants a book for nothing more than the pleasure of a good read go?
David Sassoon Library
152, Mahatma Gandhi Marg, Fort
This institution, in the Kala Ghoda precinct, at 161 years old, is the oldest library in the city. Having recently been restored, the yellow malad stone facade, cobbled garden (a favourite for cultural soirees) and a grand teak staircase stand proud.
The terrace adjoining the reading room on the second floor with its chaise longues and reclining chairs is a favourite among bookworms and nappers alike. Their collection is about 40,000 books strong and with a rather nominal lifetime membership fees of Rs 5,000, the library still relies on the largesse of its patrons.
Asiatic Society
Town Hall, Fort
Born as the Literary Society of Bombay, it met for the first time in 1804. Tucked into the fading grandeur of the Asiatic Society of Mumbai is a cache of antique volumes including a first edition copy of Dante’s Inferno. The Society’s holdings include over 3,000 manuscripts in Sanskrit, Arabic, Persian, Urdu and Prakrit from all over India and Nepal. There is also a numismatic collection but you need permission to view this. Lifetime membership will cost you Rs 10,000.
American Center
4 New Marine Lines
This one is primarily a research and reference library that focuses on promoting American culture and politics. The 13,000 volumes, therefore, consist mainly of books, government publications and think tank reports that aid that understanding. It does also, though, have 135 magazines that otherwise may be hard (or expensive) to access. Members are charged Rs 400 for a year’s access.
Shemaroo
3 Om Chambers, August Kranti Marg, Kemps Corner
It all began in 1962, when Shemaroo pioneered Bombay’s first circulating book library. It still has over 13,000 members. Their packed children and teenage library sections offer hope about the continuing relevance of literature. A lifetime membership costs Rs 800 and you’re charged 10 per cent of each book’s price as rental fee.
British Council library
Mittal Tower “A” Wing, 1st floor, Nariman Point
Always enormously popular with students who appreciate the modern environment and efficient services, British Council libraries are modelled on the pattern of British public libraries. The range of reading material is probably the most diverse, both recreational and professional, in addition to music CDs and DVDs. They charge an annual fee of Rs 1,400.
Courtesy: Business Standard
Seven cardinal rules for bibliophiles
Of course, you can head to Landmark, where everyone now goes. Or go to Strand, catch Jagat's eye and make sure he gets the book you want.
Or you can get your hands grubby and find a treasure on the streets of the city. After all, the Heras museum beaks will tell you that the oldest book in their collection was found on the streets...
Don't go where everyone tells you to go
Bibliomanes are notoriously nasty people. They will not actually tell you where the good books are. You must find out for yourself.
Go where the books are
Stop your rickshaw when you see a raddiwalla with a pile of books leaning precariously out of his thela. Stop your cab when you see a pile of books on a cart.
Stop when you see a circulating library. There are more places in the world than the street near the University library, Matunga circle, Smoker's Corner on P M Road and the New and Secondhand Book Stall in Dhobi Talao.
Don't fixate
You will not find the book you want. Do not go out with a list unless it is a list that has Robert Ludlum and John Grisham on it. Go out and see what books are available and see what you think you might like to read.
Bargain hard
But not too hard. When the chap behind the counter says that he wants Rs 100 for a book, your first thought should be, "I would have been paying Rs 500 for this at a bookstore."
Then you should think about how much you want to pay and how much the book is going to enrich your life.
If you need access, buy something
The raddiwalla looks fat and uninviting. Maybe he's had a bad day; maybe his wife has run away with the grocer.
The best way to cheer him up is to buy something, a magazine for Rs 10, say, to ease your way into the interior of his shop.
Ask about exchanges
Many raddiwallas are willing to let you take a book for a test run.
This means you can take a book, read it and return it if you don't think it's a keeper or something you will return to. They'll squiggle some hieroglyphics on the back pages of the book and you get to read and return.
Send other people
Raddiwallas will keep what sells. There are some who will only keep knitting pattern books and recipe books. Others keep porn (for guys who don't have access to the internet) and dishoom-dishoom books.
Your raddiwalla will start looking around for literature and poetry or whatever it is that rings your bells, if he knows he has someone who will buy it.
How does the semi-literate Rajasthani or Gujarati know literature from pulp?
Trust me, he knows. He'll figure it out. And yes, this means not being nasty and beating the bibliomaniacs at their own game.
Courtesy: Hindustan Times
Or you can get your hands grubby and find a treasure on the streets of the city. After all, the Heras museum beaks will tell you that the oldest book in their collection was found on the streets...
Don't go where everyone tells you to go
Bibliomanes are notoriously nasty people. They will not actually tell you where the good books are. You must find out for yourself.
Go where the books are
Stop your rickshaw when you see a raddiwalla with a pile of books leaning precariously out of his thela. Stop your cab when you see a pile of books on a cart.
Stop when you see a circulating library. There are more places in the world than the street near the University library, Matunga circle, Smoker's Corner on P M Road and the New and Secondhand Book Stall in Dhobi Talao.
Don't fixate
You will not find the book you want. Do not go out with a list unless it is a list that has Robert Ludlum and John Grisham on it. Go out and see what books are available and see what you think you might like to read.
Bargain hard
But not too hard. When the chap behind the counter says that he wants Rs 100 for a book, your first thought should be, "I would have been paying Rs 500 for this at a bookstore."
Then you should think about how much you want to pay and how much the book is going to enrich your life.
If you need access, buy something
The raddiwalla looks fat and uninviting. Maybe he's had a bad day; maybe his wife has run away with the grocer.
The best way to cheer him up is to buy something, a magazine for Rs 10, say, to ease your way into the interior of his shop.
Ask about exchanges
Many raddiwallas are willing to let you take a book for a test run.
This means you can take a book, read it and return it if you don't think it's a keeper or something you will return to. They'll squiggle some hieroglyphics on the back pages of the book and you get to read and return.
Send other people
Raddiwallas will keep what sells. There are some who will only keep knitting pattern books and recipe books. Others keep porn (for guys who don't have access to the internet) and dishoom-dishoom books.
Your raddiwalla will start looking around for literature and poetry or whatever it is that rings your bells, if he knows he has someone who will buy it.
How does the semi-literate Rajasthani or Gujarati know literature from pulp?
Trust me, he knows. He'll figure it out. And yes, this means not being nasty and beating the bibliomaniacs at their own game.
Courtesy: Hindustan Times
Smell of old books
For generations of book-lovers in Calcutta, foraging through books in that mecca of the bibliophile, College Street, carries memories. Once College Street used to be one of the few haunts in the city for books, with Gol Park and Free School Street as alternative venues.
The choice is much wider for today’s young people, with stores like Starmark and Crossword providing a one shop stop for books ranging from the Goosebumps series to ancient Greek literature. Most of the youngsters today are deprived of the flavour of old book hunting. Mansoor Alam, who has been selling books for more than two decades at stall No. 6 in College Street, said: “Young people still come. But they look more for text books, not fiction.”
“I mostly buy second hand music books from College Street, since they are expensive to get first hand,” said Tanmoy Das Lala, a student of St Xavier’s Collegiate School.
Buying books at second hand is a practice where money is only one aspect. It is more to do with unearthing rarities: an out of print book, or the first edition of a best-seller or a classic.
Inam Hussain, who studies English at Jadavpur University, has a fine collection of comics acquired from the area around Gariahat-Gol Park, another haunt for second-hand books, though not on the same scale as College Street. “I used to come here to buy old Richie Rich, Batman and Archies comics. They never cost more than Rs 10.”
The rock music buff has also managed to unearth some old issues of RAVE. He has treasures like the 567-page copy of The Giant Book of the Supernatural edited by Colin Wilson for Rs 80 and Video Rock with “coloured photographs” for Rs 40 to show for his patient foraging.
An old book carries its own history — whether of the publishing house or of the chain of owners it has passed through.
Does it irk him to find a book inscribed by a stranger’s initials, to turn the page and come upon his/her notes along the margin? For Tanmoy, the answer is a firm negative. “The books become mine once I buy them. I love the smell of old books, the feeling of it having passed through hands other than mine.”
And there are the quirky owners who leave marks of originality on books: “I have a book that has the legend ‘Handled with care’ written on it,” recalled Inam. “The only problem with buying old books is that they are sometimes damaged. The copy of The Diary of Anne Frank, which I bought recently, had some pages missing,” he said.
For Tanmoy, old books have archival value. Collecting old books is a practice that runs in their family. “My parents shopped for old books when they were MBBS students. Some of their books are still there in the house,” he said. He has a late 19th century edition of composer John Field’s Nocturnes and a copy of Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina that was owned by his great grandfather once.
But the practice is on the wane today. With less time to spare and more disposable income, stores like Landmark and Crossword are the preferred stopover for youngsters.
“Sales have been going down for the last 10 years. There are fewer people wanting to read fiction. We have to balance it with reference books. People don’t have the patience to search through books now,” laments Alam, the book-seller at College Street.
Romila Saha
Courtesy: The Telegraph
The choice is much wider for today’s young people, with stores like Starmark and Crossword providing a one shop stop for books ranging from the Goosebumps series to ancient Greek literature. Most of the youngsters today are deprived of the flavour of old book hunting. Mansoor Alam, who has been selling books for more than two decades at stall No. 6 in College Street, said: “Young people still come. But they look more for text books, not fiction.”
“I mostly buy second hand music books from College Street, since they are expensive to get first hand,” said Tanmoy Das Lala, a student of St Xavier’s Collegiate School.
Buying books at second hand is a practice where money is only one aspect. It is more to do with unearthing rarities: an out of print book, or the first edition of a best-seller or a classic.
Inam Hussain, who studies English at Jadavpur University, has a fine collection of comics acquired from the area around Gariahat-Gol Park, another haunt for second-hand books, though not on the same scale as College Street. “I used to come here to buy old Richie Rich, Batman and Archies comics. They never cost more than Rs 10.”
The rock music buff has also managed to unearth some old issues of RAVE. He has treasures like the 567-page copy of The Giant Book of the Supernatural edited by Colin Wilson for Rs 80 and Video Rock with “coloured photographs” for Rs 40 to show for his patient foraging.
An old book carries its own history — whether of the publishing house or of the chain of owners it has passed through.
Does it irk him to find a book inscribed by a stranger’s initials, to turn the page and come upon his/her notes along the margin? For Tanmoy, the answer is a firm negative. “The books become mine once I buy them. I love the smell of old books, the feeling of it having passed through hands other than mine.”
And there are the quirky owners who leave marks of originality on books: “I have a book that has the legend ‘Handled with care’ written on it,” recalled Inam. “The only problem with buying old books is that they are sometimes damaged. The copy of The Diary of Anne Frank, which I bought recently, had some pages missing,” he said.
For Tanmoy, old books have archival value. Collecting old books is a practice that runs in their family. “My parents shopped for old books when they were MBBS students. Some of their books are still there in the house,” he said. He has a late 19th century edition of composer John Field’s Nocturnes and a copy of Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina that was owned by his great grandfather once.
But the practice is on the wane today. With less time to spare and more disposable income, stores like Landmark and Crossword are the preferred stopover for youngsters.
“Sales have been going down for the last 10 years. There are fewer people wanting to read fiction. We have to balance it with reference books. People don’t have the patience to search through books now,” laments Alam, the book-seller at College Street.
Romila Saha
Courtesy: The Telegraph
It’s now a ‘manage-mind business’
D. Murali & G. Ramesh
What is at the root of all organisational problems? “It’s the mind,” say Swami Anubhavananda and Prof Arya Kumar, the authors of the ‘Management with a Difference’ (www.anebooks.com). “Understanding the mind, and managing it will improve personal and professional effectiveness,” they explain in the book, banking on the insights and wisdom of the ancient lore, the Bhagvad Gita.
Both the authors are associated with the Birla Institute of Technology (BITS), Pilani. Anubhavananda teaches management, yoga and Vedanta at BITS. Kumar heads the entrepreneurship development and IPR (intellectual property rights) unit and is also group leader of Economics and Finance at the Institute. A course titled ‘Indian Wisdom for Modern Management’ devised by the two was introduced at BITS during 2003-04.
“The students were initially surprised to find the Gita as the source material for their management course,” reminisce the authors, while recently speaking to Business Line. “However on listening to lectures, and writing their assignments, they were extremely happy to discover a management model suitable for modern India, while at the same time retaining the contact with the roots of our culture.”
The two gurus scotch doubts about the acceptability of management principles based on the Gita by people of other religions. “Wisdom does not fall in the purview of copyright or monopoly of any religion,” they declare. “The Gita is not parochial in its approach. Its views are addressed to mankind of all times.”
The ‘uniqueness’ of their management approach is that it is based on the mutual growth of the company and the employees together. “Emphasis is given on identifying the dormant potentialities of the employees to benefit them and the company. It’s a ‘value-based management’ with the greatest emphasis on understanding about the mind, and management of mind,” the authors elaborate.
If the emphasis on ‘knowing the mind’ makes you as uncomfortable as an exhortation for navel-gazing, the BITS teachers have a disarming analogy: “It’s like knowing what is below the bonnet.” As long as the car runs smoothly, problems don’t exist. “But after some time, and ultimately, we see many such mind-vehicles waiting for their turn in the psychiatric garage!” We have only one mind, which is not replaceable like a car; hence the need, the authors argue.
While welfare of the company is high on their list, they demand that sufficient opportunities be given to the erring or the adamant employee to improve. “If things don’t work out well an alternative placement could be tried. Many a time we are unable to judge the best potentiality in an employee and, as a result, he is wrongly employed.” So, the challenge of the manager is to view him “from the perspective of a third person or with what is known as ‘third eye’.”
But the authors doubt if an emotional perspective could help at the workplace. “Emotions are certainly ornaments on human personality but emotionalism is a shackle,” the authors opine. Being emotional can be a burden to oneself and to others, they caution. “It is always better that we do our duties intelligently and deal with the people with emotional beauty without getting corrupted by the emotions.”
To Anubhavananda and Kumar, knowledge management (KM) has a key place in management. KM, they aver, “capitalises on ‘the most precious resource of an organisation, i.e. human assets, by creating a culture and environment to unlock their creativity. That way, your people would keep coming up with innovative solutions to problems, so as to effectively manage and create change.”
In a culture of KM, guarding one’s knowledge, or withholding it from others, for fear of losing one’s prominence has no place in an organisation. Only an incompetent person, whose knowledge and wisdom are in short supply, would feel such fear, say the authors. “Knowledge is infinite and there cannot be any fear of losing one’s prominence in life. Else, none of the scientists would have published their results and their knowledge would have been buried with them.”
Advocating a moral management philosophy to a work-world that is populated by people who are consumed by their own desires and ambitions may look like a tall task. But the authors are undeterred in their efforts. “Weeds definitely grow along with the main crop in any field. Does it mean we should promote the unhealthy weeds?” ask Anubhavananda and Kumar. “Morality and ethics should be the basis of ‘Management with a Difference’,” they urge.
“In fact, of the 200 CEOs studied by Tony and Oster (1998), those who used religious principles in their daily decision-making had more successful companies than those who did not.”
The central message of the Gita is not religion, though, but an exposition of the secret of action: “Do your duty without hankering for results,” as Krishna counselled to Arjun, a “dynamic personality facing the ultimate challenge of his life on the battlefield.” The divine guidance may seem a far cry when confronted by the ground reality: of executives by the droves craving for rewards despite doing very little to merit the same. To those who wonder if the ageless teaching has eventually become a cliché, the BITS teachers offer this reassurance: “The truth does not change. It has, in fact, become more relevant.”
They interpret the maxim thus: “While doing your jobs in the present do not waste your energy and attention about the future possible failures, or do not take results for granted because of over-confidence while executing the job. When we are fully in tune with the job at hand, results are bound to be the best.”
A cheering thought, especially to those who aim at excellence. But what is excellence? “Gaining external success along with internal peace,” define the authors, from a vedantic angle. Do not run after success because you are not internally peaceful, they advise. For, “External success is our expression of inner peace and not an inner struggle.”
Courtesy: The Hindu
What is at the root of all organisational problems? “It’s the mind,” say Swami Anubhavananda and Prof Arya Kumar, the authors of the ‘Management with a Difference’ (www.anebooks.com). “Understanding the mind, and managing it will improve personal and professional effectiveness,” they explain in the book, banking on the insights and wisdom of the ancient lore, the Bhagvad Gita.
Both the authors are associated with the Birla Institute of Technology (BITS), Pilani. Anubhavananda teaches management, yoga and Vedanta at BITS. Kumar heads the entrepreneurship development and IPR (intellectual property rights) unit and is also group leader of Economics and Finance at the Institute. A course titled ‘Indian Wisdom for Modern Management’ devised by the two was introduced at BITS during 2003-04.
“The students were initially surprised to find the Gita as the source material for their management course,” reminisce the authors, while recently speaking to Business Line. “However on listening to lectures, and writing their assignments, they were extremely happy to discover a management model suitable for modern India, while at the same time retaining the contact with the roots of our culture.”
The two gurus scotch doubts about the acceptability of management principles based on the Gita by people of other religions. “Wisdom does not fall in the purview of copyright or monopoly of any religion,” they declare. “The Gita is not parochial in its approach. Its views are addressed to mankind of all times.”
The ‘uniqueness’ of their management approach is that it is based on the mutual growth of the company and the employees together. “Emphasis is given on identifying the dormant potentialities of the employees to benefit them and the company. It’s a ‘value-based management’ with the greatest emphasis on understanding about the mind, and management of mind,” the authors elaborate.
If the emphasis on ‘knowing the mind’ makes you as uncomfortable as an exhortation for navel-gazing, the BITS teachers have a disarming analogy: “It’s like knowing what is below the bonnet.” As long as the car runs smoothly, problems don’t exist. “But after some time, and ultimately, we see many such mind-vehicles waiting for their turn in the psychiatric garage!” We have only one mind, which is not replaceable like a car; hence the need, the authors argue.
While welfare of the company is high on their list, they demand that sufficient opportunities be given to the erring or the adamant employee to improve. “If things don’t work out well an alternative placement could be tried. Many a time we are unable to judge the best potentiality in an employee and, as a result, he is wrongly employed.” So, the challenge of the manager is to view him “from the perspective of a third person or with what is known as ‘third eye’.”
But the authors doubt if an emotional perspective could help at the workplace. “Emotions are certainly ornaments on human personality but emotionalism is a shackle,” the authors opine. Being emotional can be a burden to oneself and to others, they caution. “It is always better that we do our duties intelligently and deal with the people with emotional beauty without getting corrupted by the emotions.”
To Anubhavananda and Kumar, knowledge management (KM) has a key place in management. KM, they aver, “capitalises on ‘the most precious resource of an organisation, i.e. human assets, by creating a culture and environment to unlock their creativity. That way, your people would keep coming up with innovative solutions to problems, so as to effectively manage and create change.”
In a culture of KM, guarding one’s knowledge, or withholding it from others, for fear of losing one’s prominence has no place in an organisation. Only an incompetent person, whose knowledge and wisdom are in short supply, would feel such fear, say the authors. “Knowledge is infinite and there cannot be any fear of losing one’s prominence in life. Else, none of the scientists would have published their results and their knowledge would have been buried with them.”
Advocating a moral management philosophy to a work-world that is populated by people who are consumed by their own desires and ambitions may look like a tall task. But the authors are undeterred in their efforts. “Weeds definitely grow along with the main crop in any field. Does it mean we should promote the unhealthy weeds?” ask Anubhavananda and Kumar. “Morality and ethics should be the basis of ‘Management with a Difference’,” they urge.
“In fact, of the 200 CEOs studied by Tony and Oster (1998), those who used religious principles in their daily decision-making had more successful companies than those who did not.”
The central message of the Gita is not religion, though, but an exposition of the secret of action: “Do your duty without hankering for results,” as Krishna counselled to Arjun, a “dynamic personality facing the ultimate challenge of his life on the battlefield.” The divine guidance may seem a far cry when confronted by the ground reality: of executives by the droves craving for rewards despite doing very little to merit the same. To those who wonder if the ageless teaching has eventually become a cliché, the BITS teachers offer this reassurance: “The truth does not change. It has, in fact, become more relevant.”
They interpret the maxim thus: “While doing your jobs in the present do not waste your energy and attention about the future possible failures, or do not take results for granted because of over-confidence while executing the job. When we are fully in tune with the job at hand, results are bound to be the best.”
A cheering thought, especially to those who aim at excellence. But what is excellence? “Gaining external success along with internal peace,” define the authors, from a vedantic angle. Do not run after success because you are not internally peaceful, they advise. For, “External success is our expression of inner peace and not an inner struggle.”
Courtesy: The Hindu
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